Take The Long Way Home
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: Wincest AU! Sam's a Driver's Ed teacher, which is fun. Except for the cocky, impatient, ANNOYING, green-eyed man in the back row, everything was great. Really.
1. Chapter 1

A/N Hey you guys! It's been a while. I've been co-writing with the fabulous if-llamas-could-fly, and we have collaborated on a series of outsider!POV oneshots over on her page, so got check that out later. Here's a wincest AU, because why not?

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When you started off describing a person, you had to have the basics. Then the details, the little marks that made the human being in question important. Why, out of the millions upon millions of people on the earth, this person was special, remarkable in a long line of people with the same claim to life.

Sam Winchester was a human being. He had four limbs and one head; he ate and slept and repeated on a single cycle like anyone else. If you threw a rock at him, it would probably hurt.

The details, though, now that's when it gets interesting. Of not, depending on your view. Sam Winchester was a night person, loved the thrill and infinity of it. He read anything from law textbooks to the guilty Sherrilyn Kenyon paperback hidden in his bookshelf and loved it. He didn't drink soda and ate Nutella with peanut butter.

He also taught adult Driver's Ed at the night college near his dorms, and while it wasn't special, it sure was remarkable to Sam.

The classroom he'd been given was small-a fluorescent-linoleum death trap that put people to sleep in record time-but with a tastefully placed potted plant and a desk he'd found behind the school near the dumpster, it was nearly perfect… The lack of windows, tables, and vending machines had no effect on the space.

Really. What was one missed snickers bar in the grand scheme of things anyway?

The building itself was at the back of the back of the campus, nestled between an abandoned warehouse and an old dorm structure that needing demolishing, like, yesterday. And a fresh coat of paint decades before that, to be honest.

Frankly, it was pretty much everything Sam could've asked for. Twenty semi-willing students for one hour every night and a chance to practice speaking in front of other people.

What could he say? He'd never asked for much.

Not that he had a problem with talking. Being a lawyer with a public speaking phobia was going to get him nowhere fast, and luckily he'd managed to dodge that bullet with grace and forethought and everything else his high school teachers kept impressing on him.

But, you know. Practice helped.

The first night class was fairly simple. Seven on the dot he was sitting in his (crappy, but free of charge) rolling chair at the front of the room, ready to greet. Standing up seemed a little overenthusiastic, even though nervous energy kept pumping through him.

Between seven and seven oh five most of his kids rolled in. Actually, the majority of them looked older than him, but that deep teacher instinct in him kept calling them that, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna call them anything else.

The kids acted like any other group of high schoolers; settling into the desk-chair-satanic altar combinations that would be their resting place for the next hour with little fuss. No eye contact was made with anyone else and everyone kept his or her heads down.

Go time.

"Hello everyone." Sam said, standing up (and not stumbling, mental fist bump!) before flinching internally two seconds later. He sounded waaaaay too happy to be in a windowless room at seven on a Monday even to his ears. He tried again.

"Welcome to night driving class. My name is Sam and I'll be your teacher for the next two months."

Silence.

"All right then." Sam said awkwardly. "Why don't we pass out textbooks first and see what we'll cover today. Before we start, does anyone have any questions?"

Silence. If Sam looked real close he was pretty sure the girl in the fourth row was painting her nails.

"Good." He said, passing the large stacks in front of his desk to the beginning of each row. "Pass those back while I take attendance."

Like robots, the students passed the books and in seconds it was silent again. Sam cleared his throat before beginning roll call.

"Nick Andrews?"

A sandy haired man in the back nodded at him coolly but didn't respond. Waiting a few extra seconds just in case, Sam continued.

"Sarah Blake?" He asked, slightly more confident. A pretty brunette towards the front raised her hand. "Here."

Sam smiled back as she grinned at him and read off the next name. "Balthazar Daniels."

"Here." A British-sounding man responded, wrinkles showing around his eyes as he stared at Sam. Eye contact was maintained even as Sam looked away.

Creepy.

And so it went on. Or began.  
Or whatever.

Coming up to the last name on the list, Sam felt genuine relief as a nice looking blonde guy in the back named Adam raised his hand without any creepy staring, flirty grins or even knuckle cracking (that had been Gordon, the slightly-scary guy two seats over from Nick) and announced his presence with a small smile.

"Good, almost all of us are here." Sam sighed, marking down the absent with a red pen. "So, as we said on the website, this course teaches you the basic skills and knowledge required for you to pass the permit test. You will only be able to receive your permit once you have completed the course and passed the knowledge and skills test in two months time. Once you receive your permit, you will have..." He trailed off as almost everyone's eyes simultaneously glazed over, leaving vaguely zombie-like expressions in their wake.

Okay. Simpler words. He could do simple.

"You're in this class cause ya wanna drive, right?" He asked, letting his semi-unconscious "holier-than-thou" accent slip away. Nobody answered, so he asked a little but louder. "Right?"

Several shocked 'Right!'s met him a second later. He nodded to himself and kept going.

"In this class we're going to teach you the bookwork and the rules. So, when you can and can't make turns. What different signs mean, etc. It's going to be really boring, but it'll be worth it once you start to drive. Now, any questions before we start reading?"

Silence, but at least he had their eye contact now. Somewhat tentatively, a hand was raised in the back.

"Yes?" Sam asked, trying to rein in his excitement.

Meg Masters cracked her gum before speaking. "Like, how tall are you?"

Sam blushed a little. "Six four. Now, any serious questions?"

Another hand, and Sam's enthusiasm knew no bounds.

"Yes?"

Castiel Novak stared up at him in a way that looked so confused and puppydog-ish Sam just wanted to grab him and hug the daylights out of him. Which was totally not normal. Which Sam was aware of.

"Ah. I am inquiring as to the duration of this class." Castiel said formally, gathering his trench cost around him. Someone in the back of the class snickered quietly.

"Do you mean just today or the whole class?" Sam asked patiently. "We get out of here at eight, but our semester doesn't end for another two months."

Castiel looked up at him with big blue eyes again, looking for all his worth confused to hell. "Oh." He said softly. "I do not believe that was what I signed up for."

Gabriel Novak (siblings,  
Jesus) smacked him lightly from the seat behind. "Of course it is, Cas. I signed you up, remember?"

"I am still not quite sure about this." Castiel muttered back before falling silent. Sam took that as his cue to move on while silently recounting the great perks to the job and blah blah blah to himself.

_Me too, buddy_ he thought towards Castiel. _Me too._

The lesson began with the normal amount of silence, Sam handing out their first bookwork assignment and the majority of the class avoiding eye contact like the plague. Putting the introductory video into the (really-freaking-old) VHS system, he sat back in his chair as some dude from the nineties explained the course over the heavily synthesized pop music background.

Just as Joe (The man on the screen didn't really have a name, Sam was just being weird) began explaining pre-driving instructions, the door to the classroom smashed open.

"Adam?" Someone asked loudly, stepping into the classroom and turning towards the (now dented) door. "Oh shit. Sorry about that." The man turned towards the back of the class and began to take a step towards Adam.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked politely, standing up slowly. "Can I help you?"

A pair of irritated eyes met his, attached to a handsome face and a well-built body. The man wore a leather jacket, bow-legged strides taking him over to Sam in three seconds flat. Sam could just _feel_ the attitude radiating off of him.

"Listen, could you just tell the teacher when she comes back that I need Adam?" The man asked brazenly. "I'll have him back in a sec so y'all can learn how to drive, don't worry."

Sam's mouth tightened in irritation. "Well, that sounds good and all…" He drawled. "But seeing as I'm not a woman, I'm not quite sure how to take that."

Mystery man's face split in disbelief. He sputtered before answering, goofy grin on his face. "You're the teacher? You don't even look old enough to buy booze!" He snorted loudly, but broke off a second later, running suddenly interested green eyes up and down his body. Sam felt his cheeks redden for the millionth time that day, anger curling low in his stomach in a way it almost never did.

"Can I help you with something?" Sam repeated a second later, resisting the urge to punch this asshole in the face. The guy was freaking _licking his lips._

"Oh hell yeah." The guy muttered under his breath.

"Sorry?" Sam asked politely, pretending he hadn't heard.

"Me?" The man asked innocently, widening his eyes. "I'm…I'm a student. I signed up for your class. Didn't Adam tell you?"

Sam frowned, looking down at his clipboard. "So you're telling me you're my absent student?"

"Yeah. Of course." Green-eyes said a little more confidently, squaring his shoulders and standing a little taller.

"Oh." Sam said, putting on a dumb expression on his face. "Well, I've got one quick question, and then you can go sit down." He said seriously, widening his own eyes.

"Shoot." Green-eyes said mockingly, pouty lips forming the word obscenely. Sam pretended not to notice the burning look he raked up and down Sam's body as he waited.

"Do you go by Rebecca or Becky?"

He asked it oh-so-seriously, grinning on the inside as Mystery man's face froze.

Oh, the feeling of a lie crashing down around you. It was just like napalm in the morning.

"Just wanted to make sure, didn't wanna offend you or anything." Sam said, barely keeping his face straight.

The other man regained his composure quickly, to his credit. "Actually, I just signed up a few minutes ago. Online, you know."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Oh really?" He asked sarcastically. "Can I have your name to put in the computer later, then?

"Dean Smith."

"Related to Adam Smith?" Sam asked, even though he was already pretty sure.

"Can I take a seat now, Mr…" Dean asked impatiently.

"Winchester." Sam spat out. A few heads turned at his tone.

"Oh, C'mon. Gimme a first name." Dean said in a honey-sweet voice that probably got girls to drop their panties in a heartbeat. "This _is_ the twenty first century after all. Don't be that uptight teacher everyone hates, man."

Sam grit his teeth. "Sit down, Dean."

Dean sat down.

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A/N I will post the second chapter tomorrow! Don't forget to leave a review and check out the outsider!POV oneshots!:)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Small update! Thank for all the follows and reviews. Y'all are awesome. For my beta, who, believe it or not, laughed when I showed her this.

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_"Dean Smith."_

_"Related to Adam Smith?" Sam asked, even though he was already pretty sure._

_"Can I take a seat now, Mr…" Dean asked impatiently._

_"Winchester." Sam spat out. A few heads turned at his tone._

_"Oh, C'mon. Gimme a first name." Dean said in a honey-sweet voice that probably got girls to drop their panties in a heartbeat. "This is the twenty-first century after all. Don't be that uptight teacher everyone hates, man."_

_Sam grit his teeth. "Sit down, Dean."_

_Dean sat down._

* * *

Surprisingly, the video went by quickly, and before Sam knew it he was standing in front of the solitary whiteboard in the room, expo marker in hand. Twenty or so bored faces stared back at him.

"So, ah, who knows the four different types of traffic signs?" He asked tentatively, searching the class for a hand.

Silence. Suddenly, there was-

No. That was the heater coming on. Okay, he could start easier.

"Okay, how about this. Name one sign you can see on the street."

Castiel raised his hand, frowning. "A stop sign?"

Sam grinned at him, turning to write it on the board. "Yes. Now, anyone else?"

"Yield sign." Meg said without looking up from her nails. Sam wrote it on the board, nodding.

Sarah raised her hand in the front row. "Railroad crossing."

Sam smiled at her. "Yes. We call those crossbucks. Let's name a few more signs before we move on."

Halfheartedly, the class named a few more. Sam wrote them on the board and capped the marker, opening his textbook.

"Let's start on page 24, alright?" He asked the class a second later. "Any volunteers to read?"

An excited hand was thrust into the air before he was even done talking. Sam sighed to himself as Dean grinned from his place in the back.

"Dean." Sam acknowledged. "Start where it says 'Pre-Driving Tips' please."

The other man smirked and tossed him a wink, focusing down on the paper with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Before you drive," He started, dropping his voice a few notches. "_Always_ wear your seatbelt."

Silence.

"Do you want to continue?" Sam asked, clenching his fist under the desk in frustration.

Dean licked his lips blatantly, crossing his arms. "Nope."

Sam nodded, forcing a smile out between clenched teeth. "Alright. Any other volunteers to read?"

Sarah raised her hand a moment later, and Sam's day almost looked up. "I'll read."

He smiled at her. "Go ahead, Sarah."

She spoke efficiently, stumbling once but continuing with a smile. When she finished, Sam got up and headed to the front with more bookwork.

"You're going to work in partners for this sheet. It's a small practice quiz for street signs and your Pre-Driving check." He said as he handed a stack to each row. "You have half an hour."

Dean tried to catch his eye, but Sam ignored him.

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The students filed out the second the clock hit eight, and Sam felt a mixture of relief and accomplishment. Sarah flashed him a sweet smile before grabbing her bag and exiting, leaving one person standing in front of Sam's desk.

"So, Teach, I was wondering…" Dean said behind his back, voice low.

"Yes, Dean?" Sam asked, getting his bag together.

"What's our homework?"

_To move three states away_ "You don't have any homework, Dean. I thought I made that clear."

Dean scoffed, rubbing a hand down Sam's desk (molesting it, more like) and walking down it. "It's so hard to hear at the back of the class. I think I might need special instructions."

"Do you now." Sam muttered under his breath, grabbing his bag in one hand and his clipboard in the other. "If you have trouble hearing, I suggest you take a seat closer to the front. Goodnight."

Dean raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to say something, but Sam walked out like a badass and didn't catch it.

Not like it was important, anyways.

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Class soon became routine instead of something to be excited about. The kids dragged themselves in; Sam introduced the topic for the day. He put in a video; they drooled. He handed out bookwork and attempted discussion; sometimes it was effective, sometimes it wasn't.

Other than the sometimes present lack of enthusiasm, Sam was still pretty happy with this class. The students were on time (mostly), did the work, and occasionally raised their hands. Sarah kept shooting him sweet smiles from her seat, but Gordon cracked his knuckles whenever he walked by. It was a moot point at best, but he was having _fun._

Except for Dean Smith, because life really did hate Sam occasionally.

Along with his general snootiness, Dean tried his best every lesson to keep the attention on him. He was virtually shameless, attempting anything from making paper airplanes out of Sam's lesson plans to smoking (Sam had stamped the cigarette out furiously, but the look on Dean's face was still annoying).

Dean Smith was one of the most annoying creatures Sam had ever met. He found himself strangely fixated on him when the other man wasn't looking. Which was bad, considering Dean was almost always staring straight at him.

It was the Friday of the third week when things got out of hand. Sam passed out the practice knowledge test slowly, explaining that it was only practice. They would take the real one in three more weeks, but this one was still going to be graded. Everyone looked confident, though, and Sam had no worries. The initial discomfort had faded mostly, and he got smiles and raised hands more often than he did glares.

"You have one hour." Sam said softly, and off they went. He sat back at his desk, looking across the room with no shortage of pride. They were gonna rock this.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Half an hour later, most of the class was still filling in answers. Sam walked up and down the aisles, making sure everyone was filling in the bubbles correctly. He stopped in front of Dean, who had his legs thrown wide-open, jeans tight.

"Finished already?" Sam asked politely, looking down at Dean's test and not his crotch like he wanted everyone to.

"I didn't start."

Shock lanced through Sam. "You didn't start?" He asked in surprise, voice louder than he intended. "What the heck, Dean?"

The green-eyed man looked up at him innocently through his girly lashes. "I don't have a pencil, sir." He answered.

Sam resisted the urge to sigh, grabbing one from his pocket and slamming it on the desk. "Get started. You only have half an hour left."

Dean smirked. "Yes, Sir!"

_Shut up, Dean._

Twenty minutes later and everyone but Dean and Sarah had left, leaving Sam feeling slightly uneasy. Sarah kept biting her pencil and re-writing answers, face furrowed in concentration. Dean, on the other hand, looked amused and strangely excited by the test in front of him.

Which Sam took to be a bad sign, because he could.

Sarah and Dean finished at the same time, walking up together and depositing their tests on Sam's desk. Dean was strangely protective of his test and turned it over, placing a hand on top of it as Sarah walked by. Sam noticed with a frown that Dean avoided touching Sarah at all, which, while not being entirely strange, was still weird. Especially for Dean, who looked like a womanizer on two legs.

"Thanks." Sarah said, running back to her seat to grab her backpack. Dean sat himself up on Sam's desk like he usually did, swinging his legs like a child. When she returned, she was blushing slightly.

"Uh, I was wondering if we could talk privately for a second?" She asked, twisting a strand of hair around her finger while staring up at him through her lashes. Sam heard what he guessed was a muffled snort from Dean's direction and sent a mental slap his way.

"Sure, Sarah. Why don't we step into the hall for a sec?" He said, giving her a small smile. He glared holes into the back of Dean's head as the other man whistled some obscene AC/DC song as they passed.

When they got out into the hallway, Sarah was bright red. "I had a question." She told him.

"What about?"

She looked at the floor, face still red. "Uh..." She said, then turned her face towards Sam. She gave him a slow smile, like honey sliding down a spoon.

"Sam, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go get dinner after this?" She said in one breath, words all joined together. Sam felt his eyes go wide and froze, for once in his life completely unsure of what to do.

Fortunately, the world hated him, remember?

"OH MY GOD!" Dean screamed from inside of the classroom. A crash echoed a second later, sounding suspiciously like a knocked-over chair. Sarah flinched towards the sound, eyes wide.

"Oh my god is he okay?" She asked frantically. Sam didn't respond, sprinting towards the classroom in a panic. Had Dean fallen? There wasn't a lot to slip on in the classroom but maybe he'd forgotten something...

He reached the doorway in two seconds flat, Sarah a few feet behind. Dean lay on the floor right inside of the doorway, face tight with pain as he held his leg.

"Dean?" Sam asked, kneeling quickly and placing a hand on the other man's leg. Sarah spoke behind him a second later.

"Should I call 911? Oh my god."

Dean let out a groan, rocking slightly where he lay. Sam ran his hand down the leg, but Dean refused to remove his hand.

"Go get the security guard." Sam said tightly, trying to remove Dean's hand. She nodded and dashed as quickly as her strappy-sandals would let her.

Sam shook the other man's shoulder. "Dean? You gotta talk to me, man. What happened?"

Dean cracked open one eye, still cradling his leg. "Is she gone?" He asked a second later, looking up at Sam.

"What?" Sam asked, dumbfounded as Dean stood up without any support, giving him a small grin. He grabbed his test from Sam's desk and walked out of the classroom before clapping Sam on the shoulder.

"Girls, man. You're welcome."

With that, he was gone, leaving Sam with a knocked over chair and his test sheet.

_What the hell?_

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A/N More to come soon? Leave me a review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Short update! I'll be leaving for three weeks Sunday, so this is the last chapter you'll see for a while. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

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Sam graded tests all weekend long, caught between being excited and feeling overwhelmed. He took his time with each quiz, writing small notes to the students who needed the most help and tallying points. By the time his hand had just about quit, everything was in a neat stack in front of him, graded, written on and _done._

Except for one test, which Sam was studiously ignoring. Dean Smith's quiz sheet sat on his desk untouched, lying ever-so-innocently on top of his notebook and law textbook.

Every time he passed the sheet he felt a wave of anger and embarrassment. Sam never lost control of his emotions like this, but this test was a dig and an insult rolled in one, and Sam had never really dealt with insults all that well.

Come Monday evening, everyone was back in the classroom on time for once. Sam smiled to himself as they all visibly tried to control their excitement, shifting in their seats and glancing nervously at the tests Sam was holding.

"How was everyone's weekend?" Sam asked cheerfully as they fidgeted, taking his time as he passed out pencils and work for the day. Every single one of the students was eyeing the stack of paper in his hands, but no one made a move.

"Good." Castiel murmured from the front. Gabriel looked a little hungover next to him, but shot him a thumbs up. The rest of the class murmured an answer, distracted. Sam frowned as Dean caught his eye, wiggling his eyebrows obscenely.

"How was _your _weekend?" Dean shouted out, smile curving his lips.

Sam shot him a glare, but the rest of the class seemed mildly curious. "I graded your tests."

At the mention of the test, all of the heads perked up, Dean's especially. Sam felt a curl of dread in his stomach but put on a smile for the rest of the class.

"You guys know this was only practice, right?" He questioned. "There's no passing or failing. I just wanted to see where you were at. Nothing to stress about."

Several heads nodded, but Sam got the impression it was time to pass out the tests before they ate him alive. Okay, maybe only Gordon, but he was scary.

Walking up and down the aisles, he deposited the pieces of paper facedown on each desk. Sarah gave him a sweet smile as he placed hers on the desk, trying to catch his eye unsuccessfully. He didn't know why he couldn't meet her eyes, but didn't have time to question it as he passed the rest of the tests out.

"Congratulations." Sam said once they'd been distributed. "Every single one of you passed. There are some mistakes corrected in red ink, so make sure you check those out and write them down so you can study." He paused, dread curling in his stomach. "And Dean? Would you please go out into the hallway for a second?"

Dean looked up eagerly, getting out of his seat in one graceful bound. He walked bow-legged up the aisle, smirking as the class stared at him.

"Start looking over chapter one in the third section, guys." Sam said to the class. "I'll be back out in a few seconds."

The second they were out in the hallway, Dean was a good two feet closer to Sam than he needed to be. Sam clenched Dean's test in his hand, feeling anxious, oddly.

"So, is it my turn to be talked to _privately_ out in the hallway?" Dean drawled, looking up at him through his lashes in that stupid-annoying-captivating way of his. He leaned up against the wall carelessly, the epitome of campus bad-boy.

"No." Sam bit out firmly, tone flat. He crossed his arms. "I'm here because I have something important to talk to you about."

"Oh? What's that?" Dean asked innocently, eyes wide. "I didn't do something wrong, did I?"

Sam shook his head at the obvious bullshit, irritated. He held up Dean's test, giving him a stern look.

"Since you decided to ignore your actual test and write all over it, you would've automatically failed. I passed you anyway because I know you can do better." Sam started, pointing at the test. "Your joke didn't work."

Dean looked confused, eyes flicking from Sam to his test back to Sam again.

"You're a smart kid, but this isn't what I expected from you." Sam started. "Not to mention that this is insulting and crude." He paused, hating that he could already feel his cheeks reddening. "If you're not going to take this class seriously, I suggest you find a new one."

"Sam—"

Dean's face paled dramatically, and all of his previous cheer seemed to drain out of him. He took a step away from the wall, mouth moving silently. The other man glanced up at him, but Sam kept his eyes hard, staring him down.

He was through with being made fun of.

The fake love letter was a good plan to humiliate Sam, he had to admit, but it wasn't something he was going to fall for. People like Dean were always trying to hurt others, and he wouldn't stand it any longer.

The shorter man looked almost sick, taking a step towards the test. "I didn't—"

Sam cut him off. "I don't care what kind of stupid joke you were playing. It's an insult and something I'm done tolerating. Understood?"

Dean swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "I don't think you understand, sir—"

"I understand perfectly." Sam said coldly. "All of your jokes need to stop. Now go inside and start studying for the final so you can actually take the test. _Understood?_"

Dean paled even further at his tone and grabbed the botched love letter joke, something glittering in his eyes.

As Sam followed him back inside, it never occurred to him it may have been tears.

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A/N I know, small interlude. Leave me a review?;)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N So, long time, huh? I'm back! Feels good to have wifi, and of course, my laptop. I missed all of y'all, and I can't tell you how awesome it is to be back.

This chapter was originally a lot longer, so it's split between today and hopefully another update this week. Shout out to my beta, who sat me down and told me with no uncertainty that I'd better write another chapter for this fic or else. So, here you go!

* * *

_Sam kept his eyes hard, staring him down._

_He was through with being made fun of._

_The fake love letter was a good plan to humiliate Sam, he had to admit, but it wasn't something he was going to fall for. People like Dean were always trying to hurt others, and he wouldn't stand it any longer._

_The shorter man looked almost sick, taking a step towards the test. "I didn't—"_

_Sam cut him off. "I don't care what kind of stupid joke you were playing. It's an insult and something I'm done tolerating. Understood?"_

_Dean swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "I don't think you understand, sir—"_

_"I understand perfectly." Sam said coldly. "All of your jokes need to stop. Now go inside and start studying for the final so you can actually take the test. Understood?"_

_Dean paled even further at his tone and grabbed the botched love letter joke, something glittering in his eyes._

_As Sam followed him back inside, it never occurred to him it may have been tears._

* * *

Sam took a longer way home that night and ended up at home half an hour later than usual, exhausted through and through. Between grading quizzes, studying and taking notes, it was a surprise he'd even managed to make it out of class without falling asleep. Considering he was the one teaching that class, it was probably very fortunate.

The longer route home was the result of jangled nerves and the strange desire to see the stars that night. He drove all the way out to the docks and sat out there, thinking about everything and nothing in a way he was sure resembled every chick flick that was ever made. Ten minutes later, after staring at stars became the slightest bit boring, he realized that he was in fact sitting on a smelly dock in the middle of the night and wised up.

He got home that night and slept like the dead, and if a feeling of wrongness crept into his dreams that night, he'd forgotten it by the time he woke up the next morning.

Class the next day started right on time, students displaying their usual 'this class is too freaking late' faces as they sat down. Dean slipped into the back row while Sam had his back turned, unusually quiet for once.

"Today we're going over basic car safety and emergency situations where you, a passenger or another road user may be injured. Please flip open to chapter seven."

Books slapped open with a thud and Sam settled down into his chair at the front, waiting for everyone to find the page. When they did, he spoke.

"Volunteer to read?"

Sarah's hand was up in a flash, but for once Sam felt himself hesitating. Something felt wrong, even though her smile was as innocent and cute as it was a day ago. After a period of awkward silence, a hand was raised in the back. Sam nodded before he'd even registered whose hand it was.

Dean lowered his hand and began reading, face stony and impersonal looking. Sam groaned and geared himself up for another stupid prank, regretting his pause now.

"Emergency situations can happen to anyone—anywhere, anytime. In this chapter, we will be looking at the types of emergency situations and how safe drivers can learn to deal with them. While they aren't possible to prevent, all drivers should learn how to lower their chances of finding themselves in an emergency situation or accident and how to deal with one when they happen."

Dean paused when the paragraph ended, looking up at Sam with dull eyes that held none of their usual amusement. "Continue, sir?"

Sam flushed red but nodded, ducking his head behind his hair in irritation. What the hell was Dean playing at now?

Dean continued straight-faced through the whole next two paragraphs, speaking and reading flawlessly. Sam kept staring at him (couldn't look away, to be frank) as he read, waiting for him to slip up and crack, to admit to some god awful joke that Sam didn't have the patience to deal with.

To his amazement, he finished the whole chapter without a hint of humor, folding the book closed and looking down at the cover almost submissively. Sam felt himself gape, caught between disbelief and suspicion. Gabriel cleared his throat loudly a moment later and Sam realized he'd been staring.

"Now we're going to watch an emergency situation simulation video." Sam stuttered, walking to the VCR in the corner and putting today's tape in. He could feel the rest of the class' stares on his back at his strange tone.

When he turned around to sit down, a raised hand stopped him. He absolutely refused to make eye contact with Dean, sending what he hoped wasn't a strained looked smile towards Castiel as the younger man frowned at him.

"Why can you get in trouble for moving people who are injured in some states? And why are these people allowed to sue you later?" The younger man questioned, tilting his head in a way Sam had found meant he was truly curious. "Weren't you just trying to help them?"

Sam blinked a couple of times at the question. "In some states, people aren't protected by the Good Samaritan Law, which defends rescuers when they help a victim in an emergency situation."

"Do we have one here in California?" Gabriel piped up, raising an eyebrow as he put his legs up on the back of Castiel's chair.

"Yes. But this covers actions of medical assistance, and the law can get a little sketchy on the exact details and how to interpret them."

Meg raised her hand from the back, looking up from her cellphone for once. "Aren't you, like, a lawyer?"

"I'm pre-law." Sam said, flushing. He could feel Dean's eyes on him even though he couldn't see the other man. "But we really need to start the video, alright?" He pushed the on button and sat back down at his desk, breathing a sigh of relief as he was able to flick the lights off and hide in the semi-darkness.

* * *

The video ended after the usual allotment for blood, gore, and sensible looking men warning the viewers of the dangers of leaving home unprepared. Sam took the time to go over some of his notes for the next day, not even noticing the video's ending credits when they appeared on the screen.

"Mr. Winchester!" Adam yelled from the back of the class, waving a hand. "Hey! Movie's done!"

Sam stood up quickly, fighting against the blood rush that nearly whited-out his vision for a second. "Oh crap, is it done already?"

He nodded along with the chuckles of the class as they mocked him, getting up to take the video out of the VCR as Castiel helpfully collected the textbooks.

"Any questions on today's lecture? Anything you don't understand?" Sam asked when the lights were back on, spying the clock surreptitiously over his shoulder. Five minutes left. Great.

Sarah raised her hand demurely in the first row, offering Sam a slightly watered down version of her earlier smile. "I was wondering if you could provide an opinion for the class, Mr. Winchester?"

Flashes of Dean's face and the warning he'd imparted scattered across his vision, but Sam just frowned slightly and nodded. "If it's class appropriate, of course."

She smiled at him, leaning forward and pushing her chest out, looking up at him through her lashes.

"How do you feel about all these crashes lately?"

She gestured vaguely at the ceiling. "I mean, isn't it just so sad to see all of the wrecks? Don't you think they're happening too much?" Sam tilted his head in confusion at her poor choice in wording, mirroring Castiel.

"You'll have to be a little bit more specific than that. What do you mean by 'all these crashes'? Do you mean national statistics, or something else?"

Sarah opened her mouth to reply but was cut off.

"Actually, the number of vehicle collisions has decreased steadily since 2004." Dean Smith said smoothly, face schooled into a polite, cool mask as he sliced through her question with the precision of a brain surgeon. "Safety precautions, along with campaigns for driver awareness and an increase in public enforcement of road laws have all contributed to this decline. In reality, car crashes are becoming less and less likely to occur, dropping by the thousands every year."

Sam was pretty sure the janitor was gonna have to replace the flooring because he was positive his jawed had fallen straight through it. Madison blushed ferociously, opening her mouth again to retort when Dean cut her off again.

"Or did you mean the rate of injuries and death? Because those are dropping too, thanks to government decision in tandem with auto companies to help make America safer. We're not there yet, obviously, but the decrease is noticeable, and, in complete disagreement with your question topic."

Oh damn. Oh _damn_.

Sarah turned anxious eyes towards Sam, who still hadn't managed to retrieve his jaw from the floor. He cleared his throat and tried his best to recompose himself.

"Dean's completely accurate." He got out. "The rate of fatalities and crashes have been steadily decreasing due to a lot of factors. Maybe your impression of them have increased due to the expanded coverage in today's media."

What was he saying? Jesus. The bell rang, but Sarah at least looked less flummoxed, gratitude in her eyes as she gathered her stuff. The students filed out with little ceremony, better places to be and all that.

Dean didn't look at him as he walked out, eyes firmly set on the ground. He seemed to be radiating an aura of coldness, so different from his usual cheeriness that Sam nearly took a step back as he walked by.

"Goodnight, Mr. Winchester." He said politely, pointedly avoiding eye contact as he walked down the hallway. Sam actually looked around for cameras, because no way in hell was Dean acting this…

Normal.

No cameras discovered, he put it up to a bad night's sleep and went home.

It still didn't feel right.

* * *

A/N More to come soon! And I know it's a little dirty pool, but I'll post the next chapter sooner if I get some reviews! Three weeks is a while to go without them!:)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Hey! So, in honor of a certain reviewer (actually all of them, y'all rock) and my beta (who also rocks), here's a longer chapter. I plan on having one more part up, but I'm not sure when. The Wincest forest fic should be going up soon, if the heat wave stays up. Anyways, here's another chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

_Dean didn't look at him as he walked out, eyes firmly set on the ground. He seemed to be radiating an aura of coldness, so different from his usual cheeriness that Sam nearly took a step back as he walked by._

_"Goodnight, Mr. Winchester." He said politely, pointedly avoiding eye contact as he walked down the hallway. Sam actually looked around for cameras, because no way in hell was Dean acting this…_

_Normal._

_No cameras discovered, he put it up to a bad night's sleep and went home._

_It still didn't feel right._

* * *

Two days later and it was Sam's turn to be absolutely flummoxed.

Which, you know, was a refreshing feeling that was good for perspective and yeah—no.

Thursday evening brought nothing but rain and vicious thunderstorms, loud enough to be heard even from the bubble of windowless stone his class resided in. His mood didn't increase with the antics his students were pulling, either. The whole classroom was restless, shifting every time thunder sounded and generally just not paying attention. He attempted to cover today's bases, but he didn't blame them for not paying attention. This was the really boring part, actually.

"Your final will be on Monday." Sam finished, clapping his hands together. "You'll have this class period, Friday and your whole weekend to study. I suggest you start soon."

With that he sat down and hauled his big-ass law textbook out and started studying yet again. His final wasn't for a few more weeks, but lord was it gonna be a tough test. It was best to be prepared, even if his mind was in six different places at once. He settled down and tried to focus.

Five minutes later he realized he was just as restless as his students and sneakily checked up on the class from behind his textbook.

"No, blinking red means stop, not yield, Gabriel." Castiel was muttering to his brother in the corner of the class. "It is the equivalent of a stop sign when it flashes like that."

Gabriel sighed and flipped to the next page, pushing his honey-blonde hair back with another sigh following it. "Okay. So, what about flashing arrows? What the hell do those mean?"

"They are present for navigational purposes and to maintain the flow of traffic in the—"

Gabriel thunked his head on the desk. "Oh sweet Jesus. I know that, Cas. I wanna know what they mean individually."

Sam caught himself snickering at the two brothers and moved on. He frowned as he found an unfamiliar sight towards the normally empty side of the class.

Dean had been cool and polite for the duration of the last three days, answering questions and reading passages almost robotically. All of his usual cheer and humor seemed to have been leached out of him, sharp green eyes dull whenever Sam caught a glimpse of them-which was never, because Dean wouldn't make eye contact at all—and it was infuriating. At least in the past he'd shamelessly checked Sam out in the aisles between lectures. Now if Sam walked even a few rows nearby, he would seize up and sit straighter, concentrating fiercely on his work.

Obviously, this had baffled (and irritated) Sam to no end. Seeing him now, Sam's breath caught in surprise.

Adam was smiling as his brother leaned over the papers, gesturing at something on the page that amused the both of them. Sam couldn't hear them over the din in the class, but Dean's face cracked into a genuine smile that made his green eyes shine. Moments later, Adam pointed something out on the next page that made Dean frown, bringing out an adorable line between his eyes. Sam moved a little closer, praying he didn't get caught.

"—and when you overheat, _that's_when you shift. You pump the gas pedal as many times as you can in neutral until the thing cools down, but make sure as hell it's in neutral before you do."

Adam laughed again, teeth glinting in the crappy fluorescent lights. "Oh, don't worry, I won't. Don't wanna end up like Marv. Remember what happened to him?"

Dean cracked up quietly, the sound of laughter reaching Sam a second later. It was probably the sweetest thing Sam'd ever heard, low and deep and—

"Can I help you, Sir?" Adam asked, looking over at Sam with something akin to hostility. Sam blushed and shook his head quickly, picking his pen up so it looked like he was taking notes on the class or something. Something.

"Just checking up on class progress." Sam bullshitted, giving him a small smile. Adam flashed him a cautious look before returning to Dean, who, unsurprisingly, had clammed up the second Sam began speaking. Sam took a deep breath and stood up, walking over to where the brothers were seated. "Ah, Dean?" He asked nervously, hating the flinch he saw when Sam spoke his name. "Can I speak to you outside for a—"

Predictably, something cut him off.

"IT'S NOT LEGAL ANYWHERE, GABRIEL!" Meg shouted at the blonde man as Castiel looked on in shock, edging away from his brother's seat. She looked furious, cheeks flushed as Gabriel shook his head.

"You're wrong. I-"

Meg threw her hands up in irritation, sighing loudly. "Why is this so important to you?! It says that it's not legal. Period."

Gabriel pointed at the textbook. "No! I'm telling you it says something else-"

Meg actually _growled_at him. "Look in the goddamned book. Nowhere in there does it actually say anything about your stupid little animals except that YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE THEM IN YOUR LAP WHILE YOU'RE DRIVING!"

"But-"

"STRIPPERS TOO!"

Oh, crap.

"Hold that thought." Sam said to Dean, even though he was pretty sure Dean had already dropped the thought like an icy potato thirty seconds ago. By the time he was finished calming down Meg and reassuring a frantic Gabriel, Dean had left early for the day.

Sam walked over anyway after the bell rang, sending Adam yet another 'Please don't murder me, I'm nice, see?' smile and standing (hopefully) casually next to his desk.

"I know what you're going to ask." Adam said before he could open his mouth, and what was up with the cut-offs today? "And it's your fault."

"My fault?" Sam asked, honestly bewildered. Adam nodded harshly, packing his stuff away slowly. He stopped, waving a hand in Sam's direction as he seemed to consider something.

"I mean, he's not _ever_like this. Do you know how weird it is to see him so not…_Dean_? Answering questions and spewing bullshit like a perfect little student? You're not worth it in my opinion, man, no offense intended."

Sam did a double take. "Come again? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm saying it's your fault he's Mr. Roboto all of a sudden, asshole." Adam said harshly, sending him a glare as he zippered up his backpack. The younger man sighed, seeming to release some of the tension. "Wake up and smell the flowers or something, Jesus. Please."

With that he was out the door and Sam's jaw had a second date with the floor.

* * *

After another long evening of frigid half-looks, Sam had had enough. Which was a stupid sentence, but completely accurate by the time he sat down halfway through the evening study session Friday night.

"You have forty minutes left." He intoned quietly, fed up as he felt Dean's eyes quickly dart away from his as he turned to face the class. A couple nods were sent his way, but the class seemed too engrossed with their books (for once) to speak. Even Gabriel and Meg had apparently worked their argument out, studying closely over one of the textbooks with Castiel in the middle.

Gordon was studying on his own near where Sarah was going over notes, face furrowed in concentration. Sam felt a small pang of guilt as her eyes met his for a second, but said nothing. He liked Sarah a lot, sure, but…

But what? He wasn't really sure anymore, and he was too tired to analyze his feelings on the subject. He needed to figure out this thing with Dean first. He couldn't even look up towards where the other man was seated he felt so…emotional.

Had Adam been right? Was Dean's letter real? There was no way he'd written it himself, it had been so soft and funny, like he'd taken it off some website somewhere. He'd even pointed out Sam's height, for God's sake—that was a sure sign he'd been making fun of him, right?

Frustrated, he vowed to fix whatever problem he'd caused. Dean was obviously unhappy, and joke or not, something in Sam ached to see the guy smile, if not only to keep his neck out of Adam's angry mother bear paws.

"Dean, could you please come out into the hallway for a second?" Sam stood, facing the other man with less bravery than he could've wished for. Wide green eyes met his for a flash before Dean was out of his seat, walking stiffly to the door.

Sam waited until he was outside before he followed, closing the door with a soft click. Dean stood with his shoulders back, eyes down to the floor as Sam faced him. His face was completely frozen in an indifferent mask; jaw tightening as Sam moved the slightest bit closer.

"Dean, we need to talk."

Sam swore he heard a snort, but when Dean looked up, his face was the epitome of serious. "What about, sir?"

"See, exactly that!" Sam said irritably, gesturing at Dean. Even now, he wouldn't meet Sam's eyes completely. "Since when do you call me sir?"

Dean didn't respond, but he kept his eyes on Sam's shoes as he took a carefully measured step backwards. Sam sighed, shaking his head in irritation.

"Look, I'm not trying to scare you. I want to know what's wrong."

Dean's mouth twitched angrily, but he reigned it in admirably. What was it with this man and being polite all of a sudden? Dean Smith was the farthest person from polite Sam had ever met, for God's sake!

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong."

Sam didn't mention the obviously angry mouth twitch and instead ran a hand through his hair. He leaned against the wall of the hallway wearily. "So you're just bipolar all the time?"

"Excuse me?" Dean said, but there was no emotion in his tone. Sam didn't know what it was with the whole 'polite student' that irritated him so much, but the forced submission thing was getting old fast.

"This whole 'Mr. Roboto' thing you've got on!" Sam said, quoting Adam shamelessly. "It's none of my business what your personal life is like-" He cut off, blinking. "…But I need to know what's wrong."

"Why?" Dean asked softly, and Sam leaned forward to catch the word.

"What?"

Dean cleared his throat, sending Sam an icy glare. "Why do you care? Why do _you _need to know what's wrong?"

Sam blushed, stammering. He'd forgotten how sharp and icy this 'new' Dean could get. The other man's argument with Sarah sprung to mind, and now Sam knew what it felt to be on the receiving end of that tone.

"I-I don't. Like I said, it's none of my business, but Dean-" He cut off as the other man straightened even further, invading his personal space and crowding him up against the wall. He felt his heart beat faster, eyes widening at the intrusive action.

"You wanna know what's wrong, Sam?" Dean asked in a low voice, eyes flashing back and forth as he stared deep into Sam's eyes. He took a deep breath as the shorter man leaned in, more emotion apparent in his voice than in all of the last few days combined.

"I'm nearly done. Scratch that, I'm done trying, okay? You're obviously not getting it, so maybe Adam was right." The other man paused, sighing.  
"I'm sorry Sam."

Sam frowned at him, reeling as the other man didn't back up. "Dean, why would you say something like that?" He asked, honestly confused by the look of want in the shorter man's eyes. The thing freaking him out the most was the fact that Dean Smith had actually just said 'I'm sorry' with a straight face. There had to be cameras here somewhere-

"Dean."

Dean didn't reply, clenching his eyes shut for a second. A long moment of silence passed before Sam shifted a little against the wall.

He took a deep breath and began again, growing worried. "Dean-"

The other man shoved himself forward the last few inches and slammed his lips to Sam's. His world whited out as a second later he realized the other man's mouth covered his, kissing him sweetly. The softest lips Sam had ever felt moved against his, making lightning race through his veins. He barely regained his senses in time as Dean kissed him deeper, hands cradling his face as he pushed him gently against the wall.

Oh. _Ohhhhhh._

It was the most amazing kiss Sam had ever been given in his life, but for the life of him, he couldn't get his mouth to move in time, he was so shocked. Dean pulled away after a long moment, a look of despair on his face.

"That's what's wrong, Sam." He said softly, giving him one last look before walking back into the classroom, door swinging shut behind him.

* * *

A/N Leave me a review, and the odds of me posting sooner increase. I swear!:)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N Last chapter, and it's a long one! A big thank you to everyone who stuck along for the ride, including my awesome beta who lets me badger her at almost all hours of the night. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited-hopefully you enjoy this ending!

Ah, warnings go up a little on this chapter, but just for language! No one I know ever went through life without swearing sometimes!

* * *

_The other man shoved himself forward the last few inches and slammed his lips to Sam's. His world whited out as a second later he realized the other man's mouth covered his, kissing him sweetly. The softest lips Sam had ever felt moved against his, making lightning race through his veins. He barely regained his senses in time as Dean kissed him deeper, hands cradling his face as he pushed him gently against the wall._

_Oh. **Ohhhhhh.**_

_It was the most amazing kiss Sam had ever been given in his life, but for the life of him, he couldn't get his mouth to move in time, he was so shocked. Dean pulled away after a long moment, a look of despair on his face._

_"That's what's wrong, Sam." He said softly, giving him one last look before walking back into the classroom, door swinging shut behind him._

* * *

Sam felt the whispers of Dean's lips on his throughout the whole weekend and couldn't resist placing his fingers where Dean had been. Every touch was like a little tingle, a promise of something Sam was pretty sure he'd never seen coming.

He didn't brush it off this time, and he had no doubt now that what Adam had said was completely and utterly true. Sam Winchester was an idiot through and through. He had taken the signs of the most goddamn sweetest flirting in the world as mockery, and if that didn't show how stupid he was, nothing would.

So, Sam basically stewed in his own juices the whole weekend, going through the 'God, I'm such an idiot' phase before passing into the 'What if he hates me now?' section painfully slow, sitting in his studio apartment and smacking himself (metaphorically, mostly) in the head repeatedly.

He was such an idiot. Sam Winchester was an idiot, everybody! He'd shout it from the rooftops if he could, but his apartment's roof was covered in rust and suspicious-looking stains, and that didn't sound like such a great idea after all the rain last week.

Almost continuously he found himself thinking of all his conversations with Dean—the arguments, the fake cheeriness. He'd thought Dean Smith was the kind of person to wear his intentions on his sleeve, but maybe Sam had been wrong.

Okay, Sam had been _really _wrong. About a lot of things. He almost would've played it off as a bad joke if it hadn't been for the look in Dean's eyes as he pushed off of Sam—the look of hopelessness he'd flashed Sam's way.

There had been real emotion there, and every flash of those damnably green eyes across his eyelids at night made Sam feel like even more of a dick. How had he not seen this coming?

He woke up Monday morning with a half-formed plan and prayed to whoever looked over people who wanted to apologize for being a dick that it would work. He was going to fix this.

"During today's test, all cell phones must be off. Books and notes are not allowed on your desk for the duration of the assessment. Please use only a #2 pencil and remember to color in the whole bubble for the appropriate question. You have until the end of class to complete all three sections. Take your time, and good luck."

Sam gave the class one last, hopefully proud look before sitting down at his desk for the last time. The students set to, unfolding the tests and settling into their seats. The sound of muffled tapping and papers shifting soon filled the classroom but otherwise it was silent.

Dean and Adam Smith were once again in the back of the class, wedged between the calamity of a group that was Gabriel, Castiel and Meg. He'd consider splitting them up in the case of cheating, but the obvious bond they'd created with each other was too amusing for him to pass up even now.

Sam's heart beat faster as his eyes landed on Dean. The other man was frowning over his test, pencil pressed to his lips as he pondered one of the questions, pencil soundless against his mouth. Sam felt a strange rush of emotion pass through him and shifted in his seat, trying to look away. His whole plan was to get through the day and find a way to apologize to Dean—how he was going to manage that, he didn't know, but it was gonna happen. It was the least Dean deserved.

After about half an hour, Sam got up and paced the room under the cover of observing the tests. The majority of the class was still on page four, progressing through the questions steadily. Even Castiel and Gabriel looked on track for once, considering their confusion with the material not three days ago.

Now came the hard part. How to apologize to Dean? How could Sam show him that he—

"Mr. Winchester?"

Sam blinked, realizing he was standing in the front of the classroom staring blankly at the chalkboard. "Uh, yes?" He asked, turning around. He gaped and took a step back in surprise as Dean Smith's face appeared less than a foot from his.

"I'm done, sir." The other man said frigidly, handing Sam his test. Oh, so _that's _how it was gonna be. Not that he didn't deserve it, but Sam thought the other man would've been angry—something other than frigid at the very least. Sam took the test from him silently, placing it on his desk before changing his mind and picking it back up.

"Done?" He questioned before the shorter man could return to his seat. "It's been forty minutes, Dean. Maybe you want to check over your answers just in case."

Dean shrugged. "I'm done, sir. If it's alright with you, I'll leave soon." He stated, eyes cool and impersonal. Sam wanted to reach out and slap him, kiss him, _something _to get that look of cold tolerance off of his face.

Before Sam could remember his plan, Dean was walking back to his seat, shoulders tight and head thrown back. He grabbed his backpack and began packing his textbooks. Sam swallowed his irritation and tried to focus, grabbing Smith's test as he sat back in his chair.

No love letter this time, but Sam wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. Something about the answer sequence looked a little off to him, almost as if—

His eyes bugged out as he grabbed the answer sheet he'd prepared the night before, holding it adjacent to the test.

Every answer was correct, down to the harder extra credit questions he'd thrown in. There weren't even any eraser marks, as if Dean had penciled the answers in completely sure of himself. Sam double-checked the sheets in disbelief; almost missing the curious looks his class was giving him over their tests.

He'd have to make sure, but Dean Smith had scored a perfect on the test in forty minutes flat. Sam swallowed nervously, looking up to try and find Dean.

His heart froze as he realized the other man had left.

"Anyone know where Dean Smith went?" He asked the class, trying to conceal the nervous tremor in his voice.

Meg looked up from her test, sending him a disbelieving look. "Home. Didn't you hear him say so?"

Sam shook his head, leaping to his feet. "Watch the class." He instructed the girl, walking swiftly out of the classroom. By the time he hit the hallway he was sprinting, legs pumping as he propelled himself to the exit.

It was still almost light outside, sunset fading into the clouds to the west as Sam made his way out of the basement. He breathlessly surveyed the parking lot, trying to see if Dean was still nearby.

He caught sight of a dark figure about a block and a half and sprinted forwards, not even looking as he sped across the parking lot at desperate speeds. He overtook the walking figure quickly, skidding to a stop in front of them.

"Dean?" He asked, heaving as his heart thudded. This was it, this was it—

"Nope, not Dean." A clipped, British voice said. "Though I do like the milk brand."

Sam's eyes widened as he realized just who he was standing in front of. "Cr—Mr. Crowley, sir. Oh, holy crap." He threw a hand over his mouth. "Oh crap, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to swear, sir."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't mean a fucking thing to me, Sam."

Sam gaped.

"Your boy went that direction, by the way." Crowley continued, raising a manicured hand to point south. Sam's heart thudded even faster as he saw yet another shadowy figure stalking towards the curb.

"I'd start running if I were you." Crowley said pleasantly before taking a pointed step around Sam. "Goodnight."

Sam stood dumbfounded, feet like two lead blocks underneath him. Pure adrenaline was coursing through his body but for the life of him he couldn't move. A shout from Crowley sounded a second later, breaking into his small panic attack.

"The hell are you waiting for?" The older man shouted a few feet away, eyes blazing. "Run, you stupid boy! He's waiting!"

With that Sam was off, running even faster this time as he sprinted down the sidewalk. Dean's silhouette grew larger and larger with each step, and Sam knew without a doubt it was Dean this time.

"Dean!" He called, skidding to a stop in front of him. The other man had just reached down to one of the nearby cars, flinching towards him when he heard his name.

"Sam?" The other man asked, surprised. He was holding something small and silver in his hands.

"I'm really really sorry." Sam got out, bent over as he heaved for breath. "I didn't see what you were trying to tell me and I'm sorry. You're awesome and I screwed this up, and.." He grabbed his chest, struggling for more air. "Sorry. You're just—I'm sorry, okay. I was a dick. I'm-" A quick pause. "I, I don't know what to day."

Dean was giving him an unreadable look, arms crossed. Sam's eyes widened as he realized what was in his hand.

"Dean, are those car keys? You can't drive!" He exclaimed nervously, straightening. "Just because you took the test doesn't mean you can-"

Dean cracked a smile at that, but Sam was anything but joking now. The other man started laughing, bending over at the intensity of it. Sam's irritation grew as the chuckles increased in number.

"This isn't funny, Dean!" He shouted. "You can't just drop something like that and then have me apologize right before you drive and kill yourself, you idiot! You're going to get yourself ki-"

He cut off as Dean rustled in his pocket, flipping open a wallet and holding it next to his face. Sam's eyes widened even further and he dropped his hands as Dean spoke.

"Dean Smith, 26 years old." He started, gesturing at the license with his free hand. "I'm a organ donor and weigh just about 210 lbs. Do you think this photo makes my ears look big?"

Sam gaped at the driver's license, taking a step forward. "Is this for real…You have a license…what the fuck, Dean?!"

The other man chuckled again, handing Sam the wallet. He looked through it quickly, but it looked legal. _Really _legal.

In an amazing moment of genius, Sam smacked Dean hard on the arm, outraged.

"You..you…"

Dean smirked. "Yeah, I know. C'mere." He said, grabbing (a still slightly indignant) Sam around the neck and pulling him down laughingly for the best kiss of his life.

The End.

* * *

A/N Leave me a review? :) Let me know what you thought!


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